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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29807154">Way of the House Husband</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/alliedtowinter/pseuds/alliedtowinter'>alliedtowinter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Compilation of Final Fantasy VII</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aerith Gainsborough Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack Treated Seriously, Domestic Fluff, F/M, I think?, Keep Sephiroth Weird, M/M, Multi, OT3, Post-Canon Fix-It, Sane Sephiroth (Compilation of FFVII), blursed, not really! but not outright murderous</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:15:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,348</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29807154</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/alliedtowinter/pseuds/alliedtowinter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sephiroth is well-suited for domesticity, if domesticity includes unleashing bouts of godlike power in service of making sure your husband gets his home-cooked lunch in time. Aerith is amused. Cloud, not so much.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aerith Gainsborough/Cloud Strife, Aerith Gainsborough/Sephiroth, Aerith Gainsborough/Sephiroth/Cloud Strife, Sephiroth/Cloud Strife</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>111</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Way of the House Husband</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Man. I showed this to one of my friends when I had finished writing, and the very first words out of her mouth when she was done reading were “why is it good?” and honestly.... I think that speaks volumes!!</p><p>Aerith is a florist, Cloud’s middle management at a private security firm, and this fic took a lot of inspiration from the manga of the same name. this was pretty hastily written in three days.</p><p>enjoy!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     Aerith supposes she should be afraid of the man who’d taken her life once before, but as he stands shirtless in the center of the kitchen, poking at the twin omelettes on the stovetop, she can’t really bring herself to be. He knows better than to cook with his hair down lest any hair get into the food, and it’s tied messily at the top of his head in a crownlike bun. “Good morning,” he says without turning around, and Aerith wouldn’t be surprised if he really did have eyes in the back of his head. “You’re up early. Where’s Cloud?”</p><p> </p><p>     “Still asleep,” she answers, blearily wrapping her arms around Sephiroth’s waist from behind. Aerith is not very tall, especially compared to Sephiroth, who makes even the lamps lighting the streets at night feel short, but it’s the thought that counts. There’s already her usual cup of coffee waiting on the table. She moves to grab it and takes a deep, appreciative, sip. </p><p> </p><p>     “He’ll be late if he doesn’t come down soon.” </p><p> </p><p>     “Do you want me to go get him?”</p><p> </p><p>     “No, I’ll do it. Watch this for a second, make sure it doesn’t burn.” </p><p> </p><p>     “Anything for you,” she chirps and does as asked, as Sephiroth steps away from the stove and lifts slowly off the ground, hovering ominously in place like a very large, pale, torpedo. He keeps going up, up, <em> up </em>until his bun brushes the ceiling. </p><p> </p><p>     And then he phases through. </p><p> </p><p>     Aerith knows exactly what he’s doing. Their shared bedroom is right above the kitchen, all the better for the smell of breakfast to get them downstairs in the mornings, but Sephiroth likes it that way for a different reason. Cloud’s yelp is muffled from the floor above, but the <em> thump </em> he makes when he jumps out of bed and hits the floor like a sack of bricks certainly isn’t. Sephiroth floats back down into the kitchen and takes his rightful place at the stove once more, looking like the cat who got the cream. </p><p> </p><p>     After her time in the Shinra labs, and her brief excursion on the road with Cloud and his friends, nothing surprises her any more. Cloud isn’t nearly as inoculated as she is to all the weird stunts Sephiroth likes to pull to keep them on their toes, and so Sephiroth enjoys tormenting him even still. </p><p> </p><p>     Cloud doesn’t take long after him, and comes stomping down the stairs, trying but failing to look angry. Mostly, he just looks like a kicked puppy. “Why so blue, Cloud?” Sephiroth asks, smiling evilly. They both know the answer. </p><p> </p><p>     “That’s not a fun way to wake up,” comes Cloud’s sullen response. </p><p> </p><p>     “I know,” Sephiroth responds, and returns to his cooking. He is proud of everything he makes, and watches their faces carefully for some reaction as he presents the finished results to them both. Aerith has been filling herself on cooking for two years now, and it’s downright scary how he can take something as simple as eggs fried into a convenient shape and make it a transcendent experience. He really is perfect at everything. It would be annoying if she didn’t get to reap the wonderful benefits. </p><p> </p><p>      Masamune rests in the umbrella holder by their front door. Aerith knows that when nobody’s home, Sephiroth will sometimes take it, head out into the backyard to practice his swings against the thick old oak, then heal it with the Materia he’s got hidden behind the sugar bowl before heading back inside. Does he miss war, Aerith wonders, or is he truly content to live in boring domestic bliss? Nobody can answer that question but Sephiroth himself, and she isn’t about to ask. </p><p><br/>
    Sephiroth does not need food to survive. Whatever remains of the alien cells he was born with have made sure of that. But he can still taste, and he doesn’t like being the odd one out when both she and Cloud are eating, so usually he’ll join them. He’s drawn to strange textures and flavors: things like raw meat (not in a tartare or carpaccio, no, just plain old raw meat) and spoiled vegetables, things no sane person would eat unless they absolutely had to. Sephiroth eats them for <em> fun. </em> As far as Sephiroth’s strange tastes go, biting into a raw egg like it’s an apple as he sits down at the table is one of the more normal ones. The yolk gets everywhere, but he doesn’t seem to care. “I hope you enjoy what I’ve got prepared for later. I’ve been cooking all morning.”</p><p> </p><p>      So that’s what was inside the oven. “Of course we will,” she smiles sunnily up at him, and he smiles back, baring all his teeth in the closest thing to a warm expression he can make. Sephiroth is an acquired taste, but she’s grown to rather like him by now. Breakfast is calm, and after about a half hour Sephiroth shoos them all out of the kitchen so he can keep the lunches he’s packing for them a surprise. Aerith makes extra sure to take hers from its place on the counter. They leave shortly after, the same way they always do: on the back of Cloud’s motorcycle. She drops a helmet onto Cloud’s head, and he squawks in indignation. “Do I need to bother? It looks dumb,” he sulks, but he starts the engine as she slides on the seat behind him, and they’re both off to work. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>     Cloud pretends to be a real tough guy, sure, but he’s such a dork. Aerith cannot reasonably feel intimidated by a guy who’s named a bike<em> . </em> On their grand adventure around the world, Aerith learned that there used to be a Nibel Wolf pup abandoned by its pack near his home back in Nibelheim, and sometimes he’d sneak it scraps. That wolf was the original Fenrir. Sometimes he still wondered how it was doing, and Aerith suggested going to check on it, but he dismissed the idea with a red face. <em> Sure, whatever you say, Cloud, you’re the boss, </em> she’d brushed it off at the time. Sometimes there would be these little glimmers of personality that came through, and Aerith would try to dislodge more information about Cloud’s life, but he held onto every last secret, and prying them loose was like pulling teeth. One of the most wonderful things about waking up every day next to him was getting to see that softer side of him. Aerith could do with a lot less of the <em> till death do us part </em> stuff, though. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>     One of, if not the only, perks of saving Rufus Shinra’s ass was that he poured an ungodly amount of money into a zero-interest, pay-back-at-your-own-leisure, loan for the flower shop Aerith had always dreamed of opening. “Just never ask me for anything again,” he’d told her, and she wasn’t inclined to. The less she saw of him, and the more of his near-infinite money she took, the better. It was rare for businesses to turn a profit within their first year, but Aerith had a pretty sweet setup if she said so herself, and within a month she was in the green in more ways than just the stock she carried. </p><p> </p><p>     As they arrive, she hops off the back of the motorcycle and flips the visor on Cloud’s helmet up to give him a goodbye kiss. “Have a nice day. I love you,” Cloud says, and it sounds so natural. Cloud’s the kind of person who expands to fill the space others allow him to have, and peacetime suits him. He’ll never stop looking over his shoulder for the next threat, and that’s fine. Aerith doubts she’ll ever be able to stop either. But what counts to both of them is that they know, in the bottom of their hearts, that they will always find nothing. One of Aerith’s employees is standing outside in the brisk morning air, and she clears her throat impetuously to rush them. Cloud frowns, flipping the visor back down. “You should go.”</p><p> </p><p>     “I should. Hey, don’t go getting into any trouble when I’m not there to bail you out!”</p><p> </p><p>     Cloud laughs. “I’ll be seeing you, then. Are you taking the train home tonight?”</p><p> </p><p>     “Not if you’ll pick me up.”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>    “Right. Well, see you later.”</p><p> </p><p>     Aerith waves him off and cannot help but notice that he does not take the helmet off. She trots towards the shop as Elizabeth stares her down and lets out a “You’re late.”</p><p> </p><p>     “I own the store, I can’t <em> be </em>late, you’re just early.” It’s a good day to be a florist, and the sun shines bright and warm on Aerith’s back as she heads inside. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p><br/>
     Sephiroth has just returned from his book club meeting (every Thursday morning, like clockwork) when he notices. It seems that there is still one lunch left. He watched Aerith take hers with his own two eyes, which leaves only one suspect. He glances at the time on the stove’s digital display: half past eleven. Cloud’s midday break will be coming up soon. Sephiroth can imagine the despair in Cloud’s eyes as he opens his bag, expecting to find it only to be greeted with nothing, and the thought simply breaks his heart. He must not allow that future to come to pass.  </p><p> </p><p>     That is fine. He will bring it to Cloud himself. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>     The later it gets, the more clouds clog up the sky. The clock strikes twelve, but outside, it looks more like midnight than noon. She chalks it up to some bizarre weather pattern. After all, stranger things <em> have </em> happened, and she’s even caused some of them. At a quarter past noon, she shuts the store for an hour so her and her employee can take a nice long break, and Elizabeth turns on the radio as she flips the <em> open </em> sign on the door to <em> closed </em>. Sure, Liz is a bit abrasive, but she’s an excellent saleswoman, and she really does make running the shop so much easier. They’ve got a few folding chairs at a table in the breakroom in the back, and Aerith meanders her way back there after closing up. </p><p> </p><p>      “--unidentified flying object approaching Midgar’s upper plate, citizens are advised to shelter in place--” </p><p> </p><p>     “What?” Elizabeth sputters, and Aerith puts the bottle of iced tea she’s holding down before she drops it as she jerks to her feet. Surely she must have heard that wrong. </p><p> </p><p>     “--elephant-sized, seven-winged, or is it one-winged--” Oh. It’s just Sephiroth. Aerith sits back down in her dinky little chair and returns to her food as the radio blares on, and her PHS rings off the hook. She’s got a distinct ringtone set for Tseng and the rest of the Turks, and that’s exactly why she ignores it. Let them deal with the situation. She has a home-cooked meal to enjoy. </p><p>    </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>     That bastard knew what he was doing. </p><p> </p><p>     Cloud’s Buster Sword is hidden underneath his desk, sure, but he never thought he’d actually have to <em> use </em> it again. He’s contemplating murder a bit more than he should be</p><p> </p><p>Light so bright it burns stabs its way into the office from between the slats in the blinds,</p><p> </p><p>      A gigantic fist raps at Cloud’s window, and however delicately Sephiroth thinks he’s being, it’s not delicate enough. Sure, the glass doesn’t shatter under the force, but Cloud hears it crack from behind the blinds. He isn’t about to open them up and check out the extent of the damage. Maybe if he just stays very quiet, Sephiroth will think he’s not here.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<b>     “You forgot your lunch,”</b> Sephiroth’s voice is so deep and sonorous that Cloud feels his bones vibrate. He doesn’t move. <b>“Cloud, I know you’re in there. I can sense your presence.”</b> Damn it. The jig is up. Cloud gets up from where he’s crouched, sword still in hand, and tentatively moves to open the blinds. He yelps and leaps back as the sheer radiance of an angel, now without anything to filter it, blinds him. <b>“Sorry,”</b> comes Sephiroth’s apology, and Cloud’s poor eyes need a moment to recover as Sephiroth tones down the light show. </p><p> </p><p>     “What the <em> hell? </em> Why are you <em> here?” </em></p><p> </p><p><b>     “You forgot it,”</b> Sephiroth repeats himself, <b>“And if you aren’t going to bring it with you, then I will.”</b></p><p><b><br/>
<br/>
</b>     “I <em> hate </em> you.” He doesn’t hate Sephiroth, but in the moment, he thinks he could. He really, really, could. “Fine. Come in.” Cloud considers himself lucky as he unlatches the window that he got one of the offices with windows that open at all. He doesn’t doubt for a second that Sephiroth would have broken it entirely if he had to. Sephiroth is grateful for the opportunity to rest, and shrinks from a monstrous winged beast down to the size of a man, carefully maneuvering his upper half inside through the gap to sit on the windowsill, legs hanging out. “If you’re going to come all this way just to make me look like an idiot, I hope it’s at least good.” </p><p> </p><p>“The best I’ve ever made.” Sephiroth passes him a small packed lunch with a fork attached by a rubber band. “Shall I give you this?”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
    “This impacts you too, you know. Either my boss is going to take money for damages out of my paycheck, or I’ll get fired.”</p><p> </p><p>     “You won’t,” Sephiroth grins, in that same creepy way he always does that makes everything he says sound like a threat, then pushes himself back out the window, plummeting towards the ground at hundreds of miles per hour. Before he hits the pavement, though, he takes off forward like a shot, rocketing above the streets in the direction of home. </p><p> </p><p>      “Good riddance,” Cloud yells after him, but Sephiroth is already too far gone. The clouds in the sky above dissipate so quickly, it’s like an instant sunrise, going from night-dark back to the clear-skied midday it should have been all along. </p><p> </p><p>     (“Did you have a nice day?” Aerith jabs when he comes to pick her up in the evening.)</p><p><br/>
    (“You know what? Forget the train, you can <em> walk </em> home.”)<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>     (“Aw, I’m only teasing!”)</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Don’t ask me how this could happen, because the short answer is that it can’t. </p><p>The long answer is that Sephiroth did some introspection and inserted himself into Cloud’s and Aerith’s relationship. I think it’s fun to have Sephiroth be absolutely apeshit, but I also think a solid 80% of his apeshitness comes from Jenova’s influence over him, and after he’s destroyed for the first time, he comes back with a “god, what have I done?” realization. Neither Aerith nor Cloud have forgotten what he’s done, but they have acknowledged that he didn’t do it while of sound mind. </p><p>please comment; they’re really, really, wonderful! also, if enough people are interested, I might end up continuing this</p><p> </p><p><a href="https://twitter.com/alliedtowinter">come say hi on twitter!!!</a><br/> </p><p> </p><p> <a href="https://alliedtowinter.tumblr.com">and tumblr too.</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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